The Entangled Ties of Untied Complexities
by AmberCanWrite
Summary: Italy has always been bothered by his curl. It's causing too much trouble. It's always on his mind- even when he pays a visit to his German friend's house. And Italy's curl isn't the only thing that keeps getting complicatedly tangled. (GermanyxItaly, Rated T to Light M.)


Hey~

Just a few notes before you start:  
-English isn't my native language, and I'll be glad if you could give me a few tips and correct  
any grammar mistakes or anything else you find problematic.  
-Please leave a review- this is my first time writing smut and I need to know what I've done right and wrong.  
-Italy doesn't wear any underwear. ^.^

I hope you'll like my piece, and thank you for reading~

* * *

Italy washed his hands. He looked at the mirror in front of him, inspecting himself carefully. He examined his slightly snubbed nose, his big eyes and not-too-large ears, finding nothing special about his facial parts. He went on and examined his hair. In this light, it had a gingerly playful color. Italy liked his hair- he thought it reminded him of his cheerful personality. His eyes then started wandering to that curl. That weird piece of hair, spirally curling, keeping a noble distance from the other strands of his hair. This isolation had its meaning, too. Italy's hand reached the curl, trembling. Even though he hasn't lost his virginity, this curl had made him feel the closest to losing it- even the most gentle rub. Which had also got him into a lot of trouble and misunderstandings. Italy sighed, getting out of the bathroom. He put his shorts and a loosened deep-pink tank, and left the house to visit Germany's, despite how late it was.

He didn't get to see Germany all day because his friend was too busy with work. 'I wish I could comfort him sometimes…' He thought, smiling for himself at the thought of the German's strong arms surrounding him.

The Italian knocked on his friend's door, as loud as he could be. "Germany! Germany it's me Italy, open up!~"

Footsteps were heard, and maybe even a few silent curses in German, and the door was opened in a tired gesture. The light blinded Italy a little.

"Come in."

Italy rushed in, inhaling the scent of baked goods that was filling almost every room in Germany's house. "Germany's house is always so clean and tidy. Maybe you could come to my place and help me arrange my belongings, too!" Italy said, without giving too much attention to the pink-faced German behind him.

"I was just about to go to bed", says Germany in his thick voice, but it sounded somewhat different for the Italian. A little unsure, hesitating, and… confused? Maybe it was just because he's exhausted from his long day at work. That was the reason they couldn't meet today, right? But, as tired as Italy might has been before visiting Germany's house, he was suddenly filled with bursting energy upon seeing the German, especially with his hair down. He always liked to see the less threatening side of the blond, and he looked rather cute with his hair not intimidatingly pulled back. They stood there for a few seconds, perhaps minutes, quiet thoughts wading through their minds.

The German had eventually broken the silence. "I-I guess I'll just go to sleep, then. Join me whenever you'd like. And please," he said, as the Italian wandered around, filling himself with the comforting aura of his friend's house, "Try not to be naked this time."

With these words, and cheeks flushed with light shades of red, the German went up the stairs to his room, shutting the door not-too-hard behind him. 'But I always sleep naked. It'll get too hot if I'm not completely undressed…' The Italian thought to himself. He decided to wait until the blond would fall asleep, then sneak into the bed beside him, naked, so that it wouldn't interfere the German too much- what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

The Italian went to the bathroom once more, his friend's bathroom this time, checking himself out as he did before. Only this time, he compared himself to the blond, muscular, gorgeous man with this beautiful, dreamy pair of sky-colored eyes…

Italy shook his head violently, luring that thought away. He took off his tank. His little, fragile body looked pathetic comparing it to Germany's biceps and abs. He touched his stomach, looking for any traces of muscles that were told to be there, with no avail. No positive results with his biceps as well. Sighing, he took off his pants, proceeding to quietly sneak into the German's room. These gentle snores must come from the spot where the bed is- the Italian couldn't see a thing. Why did his friend like to sleep in such thick darkness? Fear rapidly creeped into Italy's heart, but it had disappeared as soon as Italy's leg hit the bed's frame. Letting out some air, he slipped under the covers, his hand meets something warm- Germany's body. He blushes, but one would not be able to see it in this pitch black room.

Italy's hand was tentatively brushing against Germany's abs.

Italy put his head closer to Germany's chest, right under his collarbone, listening to his soft breaths.

'What are you doing?!' a voice emerged from the back of Italy's head, causing him to flinch. 'What if he wakes up? What if he doesn't feel the same way?'

Italy let out a silent sigh, and tried to turn around and face the other side, but a strangely familiar feeling stopped him from doing so. That pleasuring tingle that goes all the way from the top of his head to the area countries refer to as their vital regions. Italy opened his eyes, terrified. His curl… Was tangled around Germany's cross…

'Okay. If I won't move, everything would be just completely fine,' he tried to calm himself down. However, the German had other plans- he started shifting uncomfortably in his bed, causing more tingles wade through Italy's turned on body. He had to wake him up…

"G-Germany…" The Italian whispered quietly, fighting the need of sexual acts towards the other guy in his bed.

A muffled sentence in German was replied.

"Germany… uwah… Wake up…" Italy started tilting the German carefully, hoping he isn't making things worse.

The German opened his eyes, prepared to loudly shoo whatever it is that bothered his sleep, but found an aroused Italy moaning his name instead.

"G-Germany… My curl… It's stuck…ah…" Italy whispered.

A certain area on the German's crotch rose almost immediately.

Italy kept on going: "That curl… Please, h-help me- owh..!" He couldn't finish the sentence. The German, blushing as hard as he possibly could, sat up, trying to untangle the knot that was made, while an aroused, adorably inviting Italian was moaning his name. An almost impossible task…

Both of them were slightly disappointed when it was finally over, and the Italian was free.

The German let out a little "tch.." under his breath, when he suddenly felt the Italian's finger seductively running up his torso.

The voices inside Italy's head were going crazy, but his heartbeats were louder- he had never felt this way before. His curl had, of course, gotten caught in other things a few times in his life, but this time… It was different. He was finally so close to that beautiful German, who always took care of him and was always there for him, and he always felt the need to pay back. This was the perfect time…

Another tingle. Italy flinched a little, but was more relaxed when he found out that it was the German who was rubbing his curl.

"What is this curl anywa-" Germany was silenced by a the dangerously close Italian, whose fingers were put on the blond's mouth. Leaning even closer, inches away from his bed-partner's ear, Italy whispered beautiful, unpure things in Italian, but quickly found himself pinned down to the mattress, the German forcing a kiss on him. He was shocked for a few countable seconds, but gave in to the kiss, moaning Germany's name as the muscular man above him kept rubbing his curl. The Italian ran his fingers down Germany's torso once again, this time he reached so close to the other man's crotch he could feel the bulge, but his hand flinched. Aren't we going too fast…?

"G-ermany… S…stop…" Italy whispered, but the German wouldn't.

"GERMANY!" The Italian shouted, trying to sound as less aroused as he could. One of the German's hands was perilously placed over the Italian's erect regions.

But he had stopped.

"A-aren't we being a bit… Hasty about this…?" The still aroused yet afraid Italian said. Embarrassed, the German looked away. Was he really going to do that to Italy…? That dirty thing he had read about in too many books, and seen in too many movies...? Take his innocence away...? He sighed, got out of the bed, and rushed out of the room. Italy could hear a frustrated "verdammt" under Germany's breath.

'Oh mio dio… What have I done?! Curse you, stupid body… Terrible hair… Deviant curl…' He kept on going for a few long minutes until he realized Germany hadn't come back.

The Italian got out of the bed, went down the stairs, and found the front door open. Panicked, he ran out of the door, shouting the German's name as loud as he could. To his surprise, Germany was quietly sitting on a bench just across the street, shouting at him to get back in the house and get dressed. When the cool breeze of the small hours of the night was brushing against his flesh, he understood what the German meant.

Face turning red, the man with the curl went back inside the house and got dressed with what little he had brought with him- that pair of shorts and the pink tank. His teeth stiffly knocking together, he stumbled across the street to take a seat by the well dressed German.

"Why didn't you take the other coat that was hanged in my room?" He asked the Italian, avoiding his face.

"I didn't know it was there…" the Italian replied, looking down in shame and regret- Germany wouldn't even look at him after what he had done.

"H-Here, have mine." The German said rather sheepishly, taking off his own coat and handing it to the surprised Italian sitting by.

"B-but… Isn't Germany supposed to hate me after…" He didn't want, and could not, finish the sentence.

The German responded with a bewildered look. "Why would I? I could never hate you,Italy..." He said, gazing forward aimlessly, smiling to himself.

The both of them were silent, deeply considering tonight's incidents.

"So… If Germany doesn't hate me… Does it mean that he loves me…?" The Italian was the first to finally talk, and wearing his cheerful, hopeful face anew, he looked at the German, who appeared to be struggling with himself over the answer that he was about to give.

Germany cleared his throat. "I-I don't hate you… But… Well…" The German shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"Uhm… If it would mean something, I wanted to say that I love Germany!" Italy said happily, and after a short silence, quietly added: "a bit more than just a friend…"

Germany's face has never wore shade of red this deep. He coughed a little, and after a few glances towards his Italian possibly-more-than-a-friend, he took a deep breath and said:"I... love you too, Italy. S-sorry about what happened. I , uh, kind of lost control… You're just so adorable…" He turned to look at the Italian, and their eyes met.

And then their lips.

At first, it was just a plain kiss on the lips, but it wasn't enough for Italy. He finally got what he longed for, and it wasn't going to end with "a plain kiss". He pulled Germany close. "Can I have just another one…?" He asked in such a sweet way, and the German couldn't resist but kiss the Italian, satisfying the hunger he tried so hard to suppress, for the sake of the no-longer-worried Italian. With their mouths colliding, tongues wonderfully tangling, breaths become shorter, the both of them were never happier.

The German rubbed Italy's cheek as they kissed, wiping the sudden stream of tears that ran down the Italian's face.

Tears of happiness…

They didn't talk at all that night. They just sat there, one in the other's arms, sneaking childish kisses and other playful gestures until Italy fell asleep.

Germany carried him back to his house, tucking him in back in the bed and kissed his forehead ever so slightly. He then went under the now messy covers himself, lying beside the peacefully sleeping Italian.

When Italy woke up the next morning, Germany was still asleep, his strong arms around his waist, protective and warm as he always imagined them. Italy sighed a happy sigh, a sigh of relief, and curled his head against his German's chest.

Yes, his German.

He was finally his.

"Maybe this curl isn't that bad after all..." He thought to himself, as he carefully, but comfortably, leaned his head against his loved one's chest.


End file.
